


Never let you go

by HolyTerror



Series: Bunker Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Domestic Fluff, Episode Related, Episode: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Gen, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Loves Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Takes Care of Dean Winchester, Sick Dean, Sick Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24452305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyTerror/pseuds/HolyTerror
Summary: Sam had seen Dean die a hundred different ways at Broward County, at that dreaded Mystery Spot YEARS ago. But no matter how much time passed, that memory remained painful and the scars from the trauma reared their ugly head, time and again. It was that time of the year when it had all happened then. And Sam is not doing well.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Bunker Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743463
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	1. Never let you go

**Author's Note:**

> I have lived with Sam and Dean's characters since 2005. Read theories and reviews, fanfictions and posts. I understand everyone's versions of them and have my own. If I write Sam and Dean in the current time (although no particular Season mentioned) I write them evolved as people, more expressive and at least less vulnerable around each other. 
> 
> This story is part of my Bunker - Series, of Sam and Dean's domestic life/ life.

It was that month again, nearing the same week when years ago Sam had lived a hundred Tuesdays watching Dean dying over and over, in every possible or impossible way a person could die. 

A decade or more had passed since then, but when this month- that same week- rolled around, Sam would get vigilant, overly protective and hyper regarding Dean. 

He would hover around him, his cautious gaze following him everywhere he want, no matter what he was doing. 

If he was in the kitchen cooking, Sam would sit with his laptop there pretending to work on something but sneakily making sure Dean wasn’t killing himself by falling on the knife. 

If he was working on the car Sam would follow him with the excuse of learning more about the car’s mechanism which Dean knew Sam never much cared about. 

He wouldn’t even let him sleep alone and spent a lot of time in Dean’s room at the pretence of watching a movie-marathon with him until they both fell asleep there together. 

Normally this would have annoyed Dean, being this smothered by his brother’s protectiveness, being followed around and watched over every minute. But he was surprised that he didn’t begrudge Sam’s possessive concern at all.  
Because had it been him in Sam’s place he wouldn’t have survived that kind of fear for his brother that long. Living a hundred Tuesdays watching his brother die every day would have killed him before any hunt could. 

He was in awe that Sam had survived it. Proud of the man his little brother had become. 

He couldn’t go back and change what had happened, couldn’t take away the scars Sam carried, but he could help by understanding what his brother was going through and allow Sam what he needed. If Sam felt better guarding him, watching over his every move, it was a small price to pay.  
But he also knew how harrowed Sam was, and he worried that a little injury here, a little concussion there, would only set Sam to panic.  
Sam had overcome his insomnia, incessant nightmares and the deliria that had masked his sanity after he had been freed from the cage. 

But stress always lead him towards a breakdown. Got back the nightmares and sometimes even the hallucinations. 

Dean could survive it all, being tormented, even Hell all over again, but he couldn’t live through a day where he became the reason for his brother’s anguish.

He looked at the wound he had gotten at the last hunt as he showered. Observing that instead of healing, it had swollen some more and was now oozing. He would have to wrap it properly and bury any grimace or pain he felt. He didn’t want Sam to know. Not now, not this week. 

Dean sighed, not pleased about it a bit….He didn’t like hiding anything from Sam anymore. They had learnt it the hard way… not to hide sickness or injuries, or keep facts or incidents from each other. It always cost them their relation. They had both fervently worked on that and evolved so much as a family. 

Dean no longer supressed the need to be taken care by his brother, even if it went against his years old way of being the protector. He had come to realize that as much as he loved being the big brother and the one protecting and pampering his little brother. He also revelled in the love Sam showered on him. It felt good to be needed, but it felt even better to be so ardently loved. So now if he was wounded, or took ill he sought Sam, his presence, his careful ministrations, they both did… and life was better for that. 

But this he would have to hide, at least until Tuesday passed.

Dean sauntered into the kitchen planning to make a sumptuous breakfast for the both of them. If he kept busy and kept Sam busier maybe he could be distracted. 

It was pointless to hope…..

Sam walked into the kitchen, looking dazed and groggy as if he had forcefully kept himself awake…. which he had. It had been Dean who had woken up to Sam nodding off next to him and dragged him to his room so he would sleep some more.

His hair askew, eyes swollen and marred with dark circles, Sam looked like a nightmare. But even half asleep and probably dead on his feet Sam was probably back on his guard. 

“Good Morning,” Dean said with an exaggerated cheer, which made Sam smile as he came to stand by Dean’s side. ”Morning…” Sam replied with his eyes still closed, slowly finding his way in the hollow of Dean’s neck, resting his head there. 

Dean just smiled, letting Sam his way, knowingly. He could sense his brothers need for proximity and also feel the anxiousness flaring within Sam. Without turning around and still working on the breakfast, he held Sam’s wrist with one hand, grazing it gently. “I am here Sammy, I am here, okay?” He softly assured him. Sam nodded, looking up at him and smiled, always touched at his brother’s ability of understanding him, his spoken word…but even every unspoken worry. 

Dean dragged his loopy brother by his hand and made him sit at the bench. Not leaving his side, he poured a mug of steaming coffee and slid it to him. As Sam sipped on the beverage, Dean gently pulled his hair away from his face, then pressed at the nape of his neck trying to knead out the stiffness he knew Sam was feeling. 

He felt Sam relax as he leaned into him, resting his head on Dean’s stomach. He smiled and fondly ruffled his brother’s hair. 

“I am making breakfast, you hungry?” 

Sam nodded slightly and Dean moved away.

He quickly worked on the breakfast and set the coffee pot to work. Sam just sat staring, his eyes trailing behind. 

Dean effortlessly fixed some eggs, some bagel with cream cheese and his favourite bacon fried to crisp and served it for both of them, taking his place opposite his brother.  
He smirked as Sam’s eyebrows rose in surprise at the tempting spread laid across.  
“Did I forget your birthday or something?” Sam asked, his voice still rough from sleep. 

“Like I would just make such little breakfast for my birthday Sammy, and like you could get away with making me work instead of serving me,” Dean remarked 

Sam began as if to argue only to be interrupted by Dean, “We can have this very tantalizing argument the whole day, but I’d rather you eat first, don’t want you shrinking away on me.”

“Like you are bloating away in front of me,” Sam egged on.

“All muscle and no fat, signs of a healthy man.”

“You can think whatever keeps you happy, doesn’t mean it’s true,” Sam retorted.

“I would be happy if you stopped yacking and ate,” Dean spoke with a full mouth.

Sam grimaced at his brother, at his age old habit of talking with a full mouth, but always secretly revelling in their banter and playing his own part in it. 

Hungry and tapped out, Sam tore into the meal, “Hmmm,” he moaned.

“Good?” Dean asked eagerly. 

“The best,” Sam complimented, smiling when he saw the happiest grin breaking out on his brother’s face. 

Sam always felt amazed when he saw Dean at the bunker, had felt so from the day they had gotten their own place. 

Dean had taken to it as his home immediately, made the place habitable. Bought cooking appliances, home décor, new pillows, beds, and the works. But more than anything it was Dean ‘nestling’- as he termed it- that left Sam surprised. 

He knew Dean had always taken care of him, literally bought him up. He wouldn’t ever forget Dean’s attempts at scourging enough money to keep himself and Sam fed. He would cook the same things in different ways so Sam never got a chance to throw a fit wanting to eat fancier. 

But he never knew Dean could cook this amazingly, and be so fond of it too. After a decade of eating packaged or fried, unhealthy meals the last few years had Sam eating an array of different cuisines, all home cooked with utmost love by his brother.  
Sam had never been for second helpings or binging. But his brothers delectable cooking had turned him into a foodie, and that was one change he revelled in…for himself, and for Dean. Whose satisfaction lied in making a home for them, feeding them as he pleased…. liberally and without the fear of not having enough. 

He just wanted Dean happy, safe and alive. Dean had given up on a lot in his life, endured a lot of trauma…they both had. Which is why it was so hard, so hard to forget this week every year. He knew he was being a bother. Trailing behind his brother, alert like a guard-dog of some sort.  
His self-reliant brother wasn’t used to this kind of coddling, he knew. 

But he wasn’t going to be apologetic for loving his only surviving family. For loving his brother like he loved him. For wanting to safeguard him from any pain physical or internal and he would do so, obsessively if needed. 

He was broken out his thoughts by a yelp from Dean, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Dean hissing as he wiped off the scalding beverage that had spilled on him.  
“Dean!” Sam jerked, moving towards him. His mind flashing back to watching Dean being burned to death when he had been showering, because the hot shower had been scalding instead of soothing.  
“Dean, what happened?” He picked Dean’s hand, his own hands firm as opposed to his voice which was trembling.  
“It’s nothing, its nothing,” Dean calmed,” I was trying to get the pot out, coffee just spilled… it’s just a little burn Sammy. Don’t get your panties in a twist dude,” Dean joked.  
“Shut up Dean, it’s not a little burn, these are angry blisters. They could get infected, you could get sepsis,” Sam rambled uneasily, quickly fetching the first aid box.  
“Dude stop…stop okay,” Dean tried relaxing him, “This is just a burn….we’ve had worse, you have to relax brother…”  
“I CAN’T relax, “Sam barked, taking Dean back from the offending coffee machine as if it had personally attacked him to the table.  
He gently placed Dean’s injured hand on the table and set about cleaning and dressing it. 

He worked on his brother’s injury as if his heart wasn’t racing and mind wasn’t conjuring terrorising images from the past. 

Dean winced, halting Sam in his work,” Sorry…Sorry, Dean…did I hurt you?” he asked wide eyed.  
Dean held on to Sam’s forearm soothingly, “I am okay, the cream burns a little….that’s it...”  
Sam nodded and continued working slower and more gently. His eyes didn’t leave the wound, his shakiness didn’t cease. And Dean held his arm even tighter.  
“Sam…listen,” he tried.  
“Dean,” Sam stopped him.  
“Sammy you need….”  
“Don’t Dean,” Sam said, resolutely. “Please, just please don’t,” Sam asserted, and with such force that Dean could say nothing, and he wouldn’t even if he wanted to.  
Instead he deviated,” I was just going to say that my right hands injured so why don’t you feed me the rest of my breakfast….Bitch.”  
Sam looked up, at the escape Dean was giving him and smirked,” Not your servant jerk, help yourself,” and got up to keep their medical box away. 

They settled down after breakfast. They had been on a string of hunts lately and had decided to regroup, take a break. And it worked since it was ‘that’ week with Tuesday just a day from now. Dean could see how it affects Sam even when they’re home and as safe as they can be, he can’t imagine how much worse it would be if they would be hunting, with so many more things that could hurt, harm or probably even kill them. 

As they day goes on, Sam gets more and more paranoid. And it gets harder and harder for Dean to hide his injury and the pain that’s escalating by the minute. By noon Dean’s body begins to get stiff and achy, a few hours later his eyes get warm and after a few more he begins to get dead on his feet.

Shit! He was coming down with an infection from the wound. The timing is the lousiest and he curses the ‘Winchester’ luck…running them into more problems when they’re desperately trying to flee from them. 

How was he going to hide this from Sam? He mulls it over, thinking of excusing himself with a pretend call from a hunter friend that wants to meet only him. But Sam would follow either way, either by force or in hiding. Same would be the case no matter where he went. He thinks of spiking Sam’s coffee or beer with something to get him to sleep a few hours, giving Dean some time to recuperate at least enough to not collapse on his own feet. 

But there is not enough space or opportunity to follow on that because Sam is always around him. And Sam would never forgive him, that alone makes him not even attempt it. 

Dean understands Sam, he really does. That desperation, that uneasiness and terror. He had felt every bit of it, when Sam died in Cold Oak, when he jumped down in the pit at Stull. So he gets it. But he also wants to hide, so Sam can get a break and not have a coronary at Dean falling ill….Also because he is tired, so very tired. 

He is glad when Sam just plans to warm a ready to eat Pasta, because he won’t have to cook or get queasy and throw up in front of Sam. 

He eats some to please Sam, but he swallows painfully and repeatedly to keep it down. His body is giving himself away and he needs to escape, he needs to hide but Sam is insistent and his paranoia begins to chaff at him. 

They’re cleaning the kitchen, and their dishware when it all goes down.  
Dean is at the end of his rope, tired and slow when a glass falls down in the sink near his hand, scratching him slightly.  
Sam jerks him away with force,” Dean!”  
Dean willingly moves away and has no strength to calm Sam and suddenly just so bleary he doesn’t even want to.  
Sam makes him sit down, checks him over and loses it.  
”What the hell Dean? Can’t you for once freaking take care of yourself? Just for once. Don’t you get it, don’t you get it what I go through every time you burn or hurt yourself. I know it’s not in you but stop being such a stubborn stupid ass for once in your life and think of somebody but yourself. A million things could happen if you aren’t looking out for yourself. Stop thinking you are invincible, you can get wounded enough to die, you can…..Believe me, I have seen it happen,” Sam bellows and pulls Dean’s hand to wipe the blood. 

Startled by Sam’s outburst and barbed words Dean moved away sharply,” Leave me alone Sam. I am stupid okay, you don’t have to keep saying that to make it more obvious. You were always the brains and I was always supposed to be the muscle of this team, so let me go lick my wounds in peace, be by own…because that’s what I do…think about myself and nobody else,” Dean burst out, his body fading fast. He wanted to just lie down now, let sleep take over. He didn’t want to keep talking to end up saying something that hurt the both of them worse. 

He pulled back and started to leave for his room. 

“No,” Sam burst out. Then pleaded, “Dean please… wait,” meekly as if beseeching. Dean stopped, holding onto the wall at the door of the kitchen, the only support preventing him from tumbling.  
Sam creeped closer, his arms snaking around his stomach as he hugged him from behind, resting his head on Dean’s shoulders and holding onto him. 

“I am sorry Dean,” he pressed closer,” I really didn’t mean to say that. I swear Dean,” he sounded teary.  
“I know you’re not stupid, you’re the smartest person I know….and Oh God, never selfish, you couldn’t be even if you tried to.”  
“But you’re also the same person that hides wounds, downplays injuries, sleeps off every illness,” Sam rattled in distress, wanting Dean to understand.  
His voice now low and raspy, he avowed what they both already knew, but he needed to say, “You’re my brother Dean….and I love you….I worry about you. And not just today…”he paused,” I mean yeah its worse today… this week,” he said tightly.  
“But I worry about you every day. After all that we’ve been through, I just don’t want you to be hurt again, or lose you again Dean,” Sam pushed on.  
“You’re not losing me Sammy, you know it. But every year, this…”Dean stopped unable to convey what he wanted to, in fear of hurting Sam.  
“I know Dean, I know…I know how I deal with it is literally insanity. I know it might be bothering you. But I can’t help it,” he sighed, frustrated. “I try, I really do…but…it’s just…”  
“It’s just what Sammy?”  
Sam stalled, plenty to say but unable to find words. But he had to. 

“It’s just….I can never save you,” Sam stiffened his hands clenching around Dean’s shirt where he was holding him. “I can never save you Dean. I couldn’t save you from Hell, I couldn’t save you from being trapped in Purgatory and I couldn’t save you any one of those hundred Tuesday’s when you just kept on dying in front of me,” Sam said, voice quivering.  
“You would die of an electrocution, you would die after eating a bad Taco… you would die of a damn cut. Can you believe it? A freaking cut!!”  
Dean stood in a trance, numbed by his brother’s pain.  
“And so many of those Tuesdays, you wouldn’t die quick. You would die a slow and painful death. Puking your guts out till dehydration took you or fluid in the lungs that slowly failed your heart, or a fever that made you delusional and killed you after a seizure.”  
Sam gulped, “But none of those times I could do anything no matter how hard I tried,” he reiterated as if defeated.  
“So you know, when you get a cut, a burn or you fall ill or if you’re even just moping because you’re feeling out of it…I want to do something about it, something….anything that might help you. It gives me a chance to make it up to you. It feels like redemption for every time I failed you,” Sam was down to a whisper.  
“And this….this isn’t just about redemption…It’s because you are my brother, and because I love you. And the watching out and saving and dying for family…It isn’t just your job. It’s mine too,” Sam emphasised. “You’re not the only one who can’t stand the thought of being alone,” Sam wept quietly, tears now seeping down Dean’s neck.

Dean held onto Sam whose body was quivering as he sobbed. He clasped Sam’s arm around him in a death grip. Holding onto the security and devotion that his brother so amply offered him. He hadn’t needed words to understand what had Sam unnerved because he could identify the same fear, same feeling of guilt and terror of losing family… 

He was stunned, such consuming and overwhelming love making him weak in his knees. He lost balance, and any strength to hold himself and slid down. Realising a little late that it wasn’t just the love that had bought him down, his body had just lost its fight and given up on him too. 

“Dean,” Sam cried, his knees hitting the floor beside him, his hands skimming through Dean’s hair. “What is it?” 

“I hear you Sammy, I hear you and I get it, all of it. And I want to talk, which is so not me,” he laughed. “But God how I want to….But can we do it a bit later? I don’t feel too good,” he said only to look at Sam’s eyes widen in alarm.

He hurriedly explained,” Don’t pee your pants dude!” he whacked Sam with whatever bit of strength he still had,” Remember I got hurt on the last hunt,” Sam nodded. “I think it got infected this morning, just getting a fever because of it…it’s nothing else okay?” he promised. 

Then demanded,” You wanted to take care of me? I want you to take care of me,” he fondly admitted, “I like it when you do.” 

Sam smiled tremulously, nodded, “I am gonna take care of you, I gotcha,” he held onto Dean who tipped forward into Sam’s arms as if giving him the reigns,” You better, bitch!” He quipped making Sam laugh in the face of his worst nightmare which had suddenly become too real. 

“Come on, let’s get you to the room,” he offered and gently eased Dean to his feet, scared when he heard tiny gasps of pain from Dean. 

Sam closed his eyes, just for a second. On any other day Sam cherished the shift in their equation, of being the care-giver. He revelled in the change in his brother. A no holds barred, expressive Dean, who didn’t fear vulnerability…not with him at least. This is what he had wanted all his life. To be equals. But when it really did happen, it also scared him.  
Dean had always been the one to be strong for the both of them. He wanted to as well, but how could he when he felt so weak and fearful himself. 

When Dean held onto Sam’s arm around his shoulder, Sam realised maybe he didn’t have to.  
He smiled at his brother and they both took slow steps to Dean’s room. 

“You should have told me,” Sam chided him, with no heat to it.  
“I would have if you didn’t seem like you would disintegrate in front of me if I even sneezed,” Dean remarked to get a soft pinch on his side that made him snort.  
“I don’t have to worry about you having gotten cursed or something right?”  
“Unless it’s you who cursed me, no…”  
“Dean!” Sam groaned.  
“What?” Dean whined,” You know I haven’t been anywhere without you. And Sam people can fall sick without it being something supernatural.”  
“People yes.”  
“Wow, way to tell me I am not human,” Dean gibed.  
“Dean…”  
“Sam is this your way of getting out of being my slave for the day? Because seriously, you got nothing to go and shoot at. I just have a ‘normal’ people reaction to wounds going on here. And stop arguing with me, I can’t talk and walk at the same time, or you’ll just have to carry me back,” he reprimanded Sam who was now sheepish to have bought it up. 

Dean was leaning heavily against Sam by the time they reached his room, and his beloved memory foam. Sam laid Dean down gently, who was unusually plaint and staring at Sam glassy-eyed.  
Sam made quick work of getting medical supplies to check and re-dress his wound, then to help abate the fever that seemed to have risen even in the few minutes it took for them to reach Dean’s room.  
Sam made Dean turn on his good side and opened the bandages, wincing as he saw the fiery redness around the gash which was now oozing amply.  
Sam looked up to give an earful but stopped when he found him pouting which made him smile with affection for his brother. 

He deftly changed the dressing, applying the antiseptic and wrapped it securely. Then set out to check if Dean was hiding any other injury – he wouldn’t put it past him to do so- But was pleased to find none. 

Wound dealt with, he checked Dean’s fever which was a high 103.2 as he had expected from the way Dean was confused and groggy. 

He made Dean sit up to give him the medicine, who by now was having a hard time sitting on his own. Sam gently held him close to his side and bought the tablets to his mouth, then the water which Dean pliably drank from Dean, making no show of wanting to do anything by himself. 

Dean not being manly about his illness or unable to even attempt refuting the support was unnerving Sam.  
And he was unable to hide it,” Dean?”  
“Hmm.”  
“You’re okay, right?” Sam asked, voice childlike…waiting for big brother to comfort him.  
Sensing his brother’s distress and sensitivity of the moment Dean straightened and looked at Sam in reassurance,” I am. Just a fever Sammy, not dying here, chill…”  
“Don’t…don’t Dean. Don’t say shit like that….” Sam shivered.  
“Sorry,” Dean replied with a smile as he shut his eyes to the room that had begun to spin. Then put his arm around Sam’s neck and hugged him,” Sorry okay? I need to lie down now…but I’m okay…” he reassured again.  
Sam helped him lie back and tucked him in exaggeratedly just to elicit a response, and laughed when it made Dean smack him hard. 

He sat down at the edge of the bed next to Dean, who shifted to give him some room, beckoning Sam to be closer to him. Sam smiled, then settled alongside him, his fingers grazing through Dean’s hair. Dean had been ill a while now, feeling sluggish and exhausted from a few days, even if the fever had appeared only today. On top of that hiding it from Sam had been the most exhausting.  
So he allowed his exhausted body to rest, relishing the soft caresses and the medicines to take affect and pull him into oblivion.  
When Dean’s breathing evened out, Sam slowly slid away from Dean but the second he moved away he could hear Dean’s disgruntled protests. Sam sat back, not moving in fear of waking Dean and settled against the headboard, continuing the soft grazing until sleep pulled him in too. 

Sam blinked awake, disoriented a minute but certain the next that something had bought him out of his sleep. Suddenly remembering about Dean, he turned towards him.  
Dean was moving, flailing in intervals…a sheen of sweat was shining on his face and he was repeatedly groaning.  
Fever dreams.  
Sam his touched his palm to Dean’s forehead. He was burning up. Shit.  
“Hang on Dean,” Sam murmured and rushed to get him more medicine some cold water and a washcloth. He would have to cool Dean quickly if he was already on the verge of delirium. If the washcloth didn’t work he would have to pull Dean under a shower  
Sam quickly fetched what he needed and rushed back to Dean, who by now had twisted himself into a huddle on the bed and was mumbling incoherently. 

“Sammy, please don’t go…” he heard his brother pleading and stopped in his tracks, wondering if this was a past event playing in his dream or a hidden fear resurfacing with his shackles down.  
“I am not going anywhere,” he soothed him while he broke the medicine in a glass of water. Dean was in no state to be woken to take them. He held Dean’s head in one palm raising him a little against his own body to make him drink it. Dean was delirious but he was still asleep, so it wasn’t an easy task to make sure the medicine was swallowed. Between all the sputtering Sam got Dean to drink most of the mix. 

Then he took a cold washcloth and turned to Dean, wiping his face, neck as he placed another cold towel on his forehead. Dean squirmed initially when he suddenly felt the chill from the ice-cold cloth, but then allowed it a clear indication of just how terrible he felt.  
Sam continued the same pattern for over an hour, hoping for Dean’s fever to subside, for him to calm down.  
But it had been over an hour and Dean had gone from mumbling to flailing in Sam’s arms and now he was awake, eyes wide open staring around the room and back to him.  
He stared at him imploringly and fisted his shirt,” Don’t leave me Sammy, please don’t go…”  
Sam shut his eyes painfully, then looked down at his brother,” Where will I go Dean? Even if I would it wouldn’t be without you…” he reassured.  
“I was alone,” he muttered thoughtfully, then loudly confessed,” I don’t like being alone Sammy. I try, I really do…but I can’t….” 

Sam teared up at his brother’s pleas. His strong, stoic brother who had survived so much, was the most vulnerable about being left behind. From their frank conversations on good-days he knew Dean didn’t fear him walking out on him. But they were ‘Winchesters’ and life had and always could take the worst turn when they least expected it to.  
“Sshh, shh,” he soothed his brother, settling his broad palm against Dean’s back sliding it across to calm him.  
Dean’s hands clenched Sam’s shirt tighter, attempting to get him closer,” I am sorry Sam,” he said…his eyes peering wildly at Sam.  
Sam held onto Dean’s tightened knuckles,” For what Dean?”  
But Dean was confused, stoned by the medicine and kept mumbling. 

Sam waited with baited breath for Dean’s fever to break, for his delirium to cease. But minutes turned into hours and Dean stayed warm as before and his fever dreams morphed from vulnerability to flashes from hell, purgatory and a whole life mixed of terror. 

An already troubled Sam, had tried holding onto his sanity, taking care of his brother to the best of his ability. But as the night wore on and Dean didn’t come around, slowly Sam began losing a hold on his rationality too.  
Cas may have taken over Sam’s hell but hadn’t wipe away Sam’s trauma. He was strong and unyielding in the face of all that he had endured, especially in the pit. But when it all got too much to bear topside. He many a times slipped, losing sense of what was real.  
Then…Dean was with him, making himself Sam’s stone number one…to whom Sam held on till sanity returned. But Dean wasn’t here, he was lost in his own hell as he fought through fever, and hallucinations. 

So even as Sam sat with Dean tightly held in his arms, he wasn’t really aware. He was lost in his own head, oblivious of the time, of the month or year or if he was back to Broward County where he was losing Dean. 

And he cried, tears streaming down his face and into Dean’s hair, fighting sleep…fearing he would wake up to a fit and thriving Dean, only to lose him again and again…


	2. Never let you go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean helps Sam, Sam helps Dean - That's what brothers are for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this got a bit long. But I just went with the flow. PLEASE do leave a comment if you like. It would mean so much.

He was dreaming, Dean thought, hazy from sleep and trying to escape his nightmares. He had certainly been dreaming, of blood and gore, of screams-from hell, seeing his brother’s puppy eye stare turn entirely black as he stood beside him on the rack. All his fears and the reality he had lived morphing into one. 

He gasped awake, blinking dizzily at the darkness lit by the night-light at the door. His heart was still racing. The remnants from his dream still making him shudder. Dreams that were almost never just dreams, more like memories he had lived through.

A little more aware, he looked around, confused and dazed, his thoughts hazy. 

He vaguely remembered being cautious around Sam, hiding his injury…then falling ill and giving it away to his brother eventually. Sam walking him back to the room, dozing him with medicine, trying to get him to sleep. 

Sam. The thought of his brother who had been having a meltdown just a few hours ago had him moving. He tilted his head around trying to search for him, surprised that Sam was not hovering. 

He paused. Something was wrong. When Dean got ill, Sam was restless, always on the move, frantic and desperate to help. And that was when things were normal and the flashes of Broward County weren’t overpowering. With how things had been before, Sam not being around, waiting for Dean to wake up with baited breath….was strange. 

Sam wasn’t okay. Dean just knew. 

He gradually sat up, he knew didn’t have enough strength, so he knowingly moved slowly, but even then a wave of dizziness had him stagger to the side. He held onto the bed post, and balanced himself before he started to move out to find where Sam was. 

He’d only reached the door when he heard panting, that paused for a few seconds to be replaced by short gasps, and repeated murmuring. He switched on the light on the wall next to him and turned around, fighting the light-headedness that would have sent him tumbling down if he hadn’t been paralyzed by his brothers image, who had huddled himself into a corner, his gigantic frame wedged between the wall and the study table at the far corner of the room. 

Dean breathed out in relief momentarily…for now just glad Sam was there, a few steps away. But it was quickly replaced by terror that mounted with every step he took towards his brother. Soon realising that Sam was not injured, not unconscious. He was awake but currently lost in his own world. 

As he got nearer he heard Sam mumble his name repeatedly.   
He sighed in despair…Sam had been holding up all day. Dean had tried helping, but Sam had held his own.   
But Dean falling sick, then falling asleep and his probable fever dreams might have pushed Sam over the edge. Because he currently seemed to be hallucinating, probably believing he hadn’t ever moved on from that dreaded Tuesday. 

He walked towards his brother slowly, riding a bout of nausea and dizziness, not making any sudden noise in fear of alarming his brother any more than he already was.   
He sat down next to him, gently held Sam’s palm but said nothing. Years of doing this had him know when his brother needed touch, when he needed words and for how long he needed space.   
He just held on to Sam’s hand, gently increasing his grip. Slowly he pressed in between Sam’s palm, causing him to wince. But Sam didn’t move, didn’t even pause….So Dean held on waiting. 

After giving Sam a few more moments Dean called out softly,” Sammy?”

Sam didn’t flinch, didn’t stir…just continued murmuring as if he hadn’t even heard him. 

Dean called out again, this time a bit louder, “Sammy.” He pressed on Sam’s palm, to ground him back to reality.   
Sam looked up, stared at Dean with shaky eyes, but as if they were staring at nothing. 

Dean pressed on harder with one hand and rubbing on Sam’s chest with the other, repeatedly calling him out.   
“Come on Sammy, come back to me kiddo!” Dean reassured again and again. He would keep on chanting the same, until Sam stopped his.   
When Dean thought it was safe to, he pushed himself closer to Sam, tugged him so his back was leaning against his chest. He held him there, silently and patiently…giving Sam the time he needed, but continuously consoling him, making him aware of his presence. 

“Sammy, I am right here, right here… not dead. I am alive see,” he said taking Sam’s palm and keeping it against his heart…hoping the clock-like rhythm would break through. Then held his palm against his cheek that was warm from fever,” I just have a fever, I am warm…alive. Not cold or dead Sammy… come on…come back to me kiddo,” he said insistently.

He looked down at Sam, hoping to catch a glimpse of awareness, trusting Sam to fight his way back to him. 

Sam trembled in his hold, and Dean pulled him in, hugging him tighter. Maybe it was the touch, maybe his presence, but Sam had grabbed onto it. Because he turned towards Dean and his gaze sharpened, as if he had just seen him for the first time now. 

His face almost crumpled,” Dean?” 

Dean sighed in relief and grinned back,” Yeah Sammy, it’s me. I’m okay…see?” he placed Sam’s palm on his front again.

Sam glanced over unbelievingly,” It might be another Tuesday, you’ll die again….and I’ll wake up…and it’ll keep happening….won’t stop…never stops,” he went on.

Oh god. Dean felt numbed. “Sammy, I didn’t die….I am right here.”

“Yeah, now-“ 

“Sammy, kiddo it’s been years to Broward County. Gabriel was the trickster remember, he died?” Dean started stating facts, hoping to reason…because facts always worked with Sam.

Dean swiped his palm on Sam’s forehead, then cheeks and pulled him closer…pressing their heads together. 

“Come back to me Sammy, come back to me,” he urged. “You have to take care of me remember? I have a fever, my body aches…I feel like crap…come back to me now.” 

Those words of need, of Dean needing Sam were what finally got through. He finally felt something shift in Sam. Alert eyes looked at him, now concerned because Dean had admitted to feeling sick. It was the love for his brother that would bring him back…and it did. 

“Yeah kiddo…yeah…” Dean smiled, relieved. 

Sam sucked in a breath, his eyes filled and tears trailed down his cheeks. Fear and exhaustion broke barriers and Sam let out a sob. 

Dean just pulled Sam towards him, wrapping his arms around him and smoothened a hand over his back in a calming motion. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” he let Sam unburden. He knew the life they had lived had made it easier to believe the worst and harder to accept that things could ever be okay. 

“Are you back to me?” Dean implored hopefully.

Sam nodded but snuggled closer, turned his face sideways into Dean’s neck, breathing him in. He let his hands touch his brother, trying to convince himself he was real. 

Dean didn’t know how long they had been sitting like that, but he would continue to. Even if his wounded shoulder was agonizingly painful and his back cramping. But he didn’t move and he wouldn’t. He would stay right there, till his brother needed him. 

Sam stirred, senses now gradually returning. The familiar scent of his brother, who smelled some parts gun oil, some of the food he had cooked them, reminding him of the domesticity their life now entailed alongside their ‘family business’ and let himself soak it in.

Sam felt tired, as if all energy had been sucked out of him. He wanted to drift off. But now aware, he was also mindful that his brother needed him.

Just a while ago he had been writhing his way through nightmares and from the heat he was emanating, he was obviously still running a high fever. 

He sat up, mortified that his sick brother was out of bed, on the floor, probably sore and tired. 

“I am sorry Dean…I should be taking care of you…” 

“Shut up Sammy,” Dean replied, offended. Then tenderly, tucked his unruly hair behind his ears and asked,” Are you okay?” 

Sam nodded, smiling meekly but fondly at his brother, who although sick was still more concerned about him. 

Dean smiled back, marvelling at his brother’s relentlessness. He knew Sam took a while to regain his composure. He was probably still mulling over, fighting to gauge real from what he had been believing was a delusion. But Sam was still willing to take a chance, so he could take care of his brother and Dean was left gratified….at Sam’s strength and his love for him. 

“Come on Dean, let’s get off the floor…” Sam reached for Dean’s arm. Dean smiled…much relieved to have his over=protective brother back. Dean happily leaned into him and let him lead him back to the bed. 

Sam’s concerned eyes followed Dean’s every movement and his heart sank seeing Dean literally drag his feet with his support. He felt Dean tremble, gasping in pain. The shoulder could be worse. And his fever also seemed higher just from his touch. 

He should have been taking care of Dean, not cowering in the corner, lost in la-la land…leaving Dean to fend for himself…making his sick brother come after him and take on the weight of both their miseries again. 

He was rudely broken out of his guilt-trip, when Dean unwound himself away from and sank into the bed with a huff. Sam was taken aback by the scowl on Dean’s face. 

“What?” he finally asked.

“Would you just stop? You think too loud and whatever you’re thinking is a whole load of crap Sam.” 

“You don’t know what I’m thinking Dean….” 

“Don’t I?” Dean challenged. “I can tell you right about now that you’re reeking of guilt to me,” Dean smirked.”You were probably crying to yourself about how you should have been taking care of me instead of hiding in that corner fighting your own distress,” Dean claimed,” Tell me I wrong.” 

Sam shouldn’t have felt surprised, but he was. Dean knew him and understood him more than anyone. Not that they had many people to account for. But he couldn’t decide if he was worried about being so transparent or moved at Dean’s comprehension of ‘everything Sam’.

Dean rolled his eyes….leaned forward to tug on Sam’s arm to make him plop down on the bed right next to him. That, Sam had not jeered back or even mildly protested was telling of his state. 

Dean had to recede to the fact that Sam’s trepidation wasn’t magically going to heal itself. Sam could fall apart again, and all Dean could do was be there to put the pieces back together. Like he always did. 

Sam sat, back hunched forward, working his hands together nervously,” I am sorry Dean…I…” he wasn’t done being guilty. 

“Stop Sam….just stop,” Dean sharply demanded. “If you say you’re sorry once more Sam, I swear to God, I’ll ki…kick your ass…you hear?”

“Dean…”

“No Sam. Don’t you dare apologise about being worried, for caring about me. Because I sure as hell never apologised the million times I did things –right or wrong- to protect you and I won’t even now. I’d do anything to protect you and you’d do anything to protect me. That’s how it works,” Dean said. 

“If anything, blame me. I was the one who hid the injury from you. Had I told you before maybe I wouldn’t have fallen sick …and then you wouldn’t have…” Dean’s voice trailed…now guilty himself. 

“Maybe if I hadn’t been having a fit about…” Sam flapped his hand in the air,” I don’t know everything…you’d have probably trusted me more to do so…”

“Yeah but if I hadn’t gotten injured in the first place nothing of this sort would have happened at all…So I should have been more careful on the hunt,” Dean admitted, hastily trying to absolve Sam of his guilt. 

“Okay so it’s your fault then,” Sam tried for levity. Understanding this conversation was inbuilt to make them both feel contrite. But Dean’s last statement was something he couldn’t argue. Dean really needed to be more careful on hunts. 

Dean turned to look at Sam, surprised at the sudden change. He looked as if he was about to refute but he had run out of arguments with the fault now on his shoulders. A befuddled Dean was always a sight for sore eyes and his scowl only made Sam laugh. 

Dean grinned back, incredibly heartened to see Sam smile, to see him happy. 

He looped his arm around Sam’s neck, pulling him into a head-lock and affectionately rubbed his hair, dropping a kiss there. 

When he didn’t pull away or loosen his hold. Sam worriedly moved away. Dean was staring at him with shining eyes…blinking owlishly. The levity of the situation evaporated, because Sam still had a sick brother to tend do. Why did he keep forgetting that? Maybe because Dean was really good at distracting him. Which he recognized was what Dean was doing to help him get through the day. 

.  
“Okay, parties over man, let’s go back to bed,” Sam said, pushing Dean to lie down…helping his legs back on the bed.

“Like you ever want to party…you’re a kill-joy Sammy…” Dean jested with a tired grin. He was burnt out, even if he was trying really hard to fight the exhaustion, hanging on just so he could keep an eye out for Sam. 

But Sam had to unwind those reigns back from Dean. He wanted to look after his brother, yes. That part where Sam had told Dean that watching out for him, tending to him was his way of making up for the innumerable misses he’d had in doing that through the years-was true. But there was more. If there was anyone who deserved to be codded or spoilt…it was Dean…who had spent his whole life being the stanchion of the family, holding them together, giving away everything he had just to see them all safe and alive. 

Dean had nestled himself into the bed, leaving some space for Sam, invitingly. Sam dropped down next to him, leaning down to check Dean over. He pressed his palm to Dean’s cheek,” Shit! You’re hot Dean.” 

“Gee Sam? Getting into bed with me, calling me hot? Even I’m not that quick on my dates…” Dean said…his eyes still close, one corner of his mouth turned up. 

Sam snorted,” Such an ass,” he remarked but then grew silent. Dean’s fever seemed to have risen some more. His forehead was clammy to the touch and he was slightly shaking. By the way he was speaking, his words were more slurs than anything. And worry twisted within him again. 

He had given the second dose of medicines to Dean, right before he had slept. It was long before he could give him anything more. 

He looked down when he felt a hand around his wrist,” What’s wrong Sammy? All good?” 

Sam smiled, after how Dean had found him a while ago it wouldn’t surprise him that Dean would be overtly observant of him. 

“I am okay Dean, stop worrying…I’ll get you a washcloth okay. I need to get your fever down…”

“Forget the washcloth Sammy, it doesn’t even help…just makes me feel ickier. I’ll be better once the antibiotics kick in…” Dean insisted. 

“But Dean….”

“Stop disputing everything I say dude, I am running out of strength to argue with you,” Dean cut him off angrily. 

Dean was snapping and that told a lot about how lousy he must be feeling and Sam quietened. Dean was allowing everything, but even he had his limits. 

“Sorry,” Dean said quietly, blearily glancing up at him,” I didn’t mean to snap…I am just tired okay?” 

Sam nodded jerkily, busying himself with draping the blanket over Dean,” You sleep, I’ll….”

Dean was upright the next moment, even if he had no reserve of energy to tap into anymore,” I want you right here Sam, you hear me?” 

“Dean I’ll be okay,” Sam assured, though meekly. 

“I know you will, but I am the sick one. So you stay right here by my side…counting sheep with me if you need something to pass your freaking time, but you aren’t moving from here…” Dean ended up yelling.

“Okay okay….” Sam calmed him, understanding that his own illness was merely an excuse. Dean just to have Sam where he could see him. Not that he was even going to go further away than the armchair next to the bed. But cramped or not, he was going to be sitting glued to Dean if that’s what they both needed. 

“Okay relax…calm down…I am right here. Why don’t you try sleeping some?” Sam offered and was a bit taken aback seeing Dean shut down at the suggestion. 

“No I am okay, not sleepy anyway,” he whispered back, bleary eyes roaming the room, feigning awareness. 

“Dean…” Sam admonished. 

“Not sleepy…”

“Dude just go to sleep….I won’t go anywhere, and I won’t go nuts again either….”

“Stop it calling it that Sam,” Dean reproached,” I don’t like it when you make a joke out of it…”

“Okay sorry, I won’t ‘flip out’…Is that okay for you delicate sensitivity?” Sam quipped. 

“Much better…” Dean acceded making Sam smile. 

“Then if it’s all good…sleep some Dean, you really need it.” Sam said slowly, trying for Dean to let his guard down. 

“I just said I can’t Sam,” Dean said…now clearly agitated.

Dean had said can’t, not that he didn’t want to. This wasn’t just Dean’s concern for Sam. It was more. It was probably also about the nightmares he’d been having that had dredged up buried memories, undeniably even about hell. No one would want to sleep for that. 

But Dean needed rest. The more he stayed awake, the more crabbier and agitated he would be, making his injury and body in general ache more. He needed to rest to heal. But asking Dean to do anything he didn’t want to would only make him shut down and completely ignore him.

“Want to watch something?” Sam offered as if talking to a child. And Dean was so far gone in his world that he didn’t even realise it. 

“Dean?” Sam repeated when Dean didn’t answer,” Wanna watch something?” 

“Yeah okay…” he gave in, with no heart in it. 

Sam stared at Dean…wondering. Dean had been joking, egging him into their usual banter just minutes before. And now he seemed irritable and bone-tired. Sam wanted to ask, but he feared Dean would only get more irate. 

No. He told himself. Dean was sick, feverish, in pain and agitated by the prospect of sleeping.   
He could understand….He’d been on the other end of such nightmares. 

He tried pacifying himself. Dean needed rest, some indulgence and all the care he could provide. And Sam was going to give him just that. It might not be easy to get through this – considering every groan, gasp and shiver from Dean resurged his panic and previous impressions of Dean’s similar state. But he would fight his way through it, not giving in like he had a while ago. Dean needed him strong. 

He found the remote on the side table and browsed through…till he found Simpsons on…Dean’s favourite. Putting it on to a bearable volume, Sam slid down the bed so he was half lying next to Dean and warmed his right arm around him, encasing Dean’s head in his elbow. He let his other hand palm Dean’s forehead, then gently slid through Dean’s hair…his fingers slowly sifting through the strands. 

He felt a sudden tightness in his chest when Dean leaned into the touch, his lips curving in a slight smile. Dean was so starved for love, physical affection or well worded encouragements …that he tended to relish even the most meagre amount of intimate gestures. 

Sam swallowed the lump lodged up against his throat and smiled. His brother needed so little to make him happy, if it was in his hands he would give him the world. 

For now he continued skimming his fingers across his head and unable to contain the limitless affection for his brother bent down to kiss his forehead. 

Wet, painful hacking woke Sam up. His brain taking a while to focus, gathering that he had nodded off while getting Dean to sleep.   
“Sammy,” he heard Dean’s scratchy voice call him, noticing that he had gotten himself tangled in the sheets and was trying to sit upright so he could breathe, as another bout of cough took over.   
“Dean,” Sam made him sit up against the bed post,” You okay?”   
“Yeah am fine, sorry for waking you up….couldn’t stop coughing,” he rasped, “Get me some water please,” he easily asked.   
“Yeah, just a second,” Sam handed him a cup of warm water to sip on. Trust Sam to keep a flask next to bed for instant hot water when needed. Sheesh, people who called Dean fussy hadn’t met Sam yet.   
His hands were shaking apparently, and he had spilled some water on the bed. Wordlessly Sam helped Dean hold on to the cup till he drank some to soothe the rawness prickling his throat. 

He opened his eyes to a gentle touch, and Sam was wiping the water that had dribbled down his chin with his sleeve. Dean smiled fondly and ruffled his hair making his brother smile a bit meekly too. 

“Wanna lie down again?” Sam asked.

Dean refused,” Cough more when I am lying down…it’s annoying,” he grumbled. 

Dean kept wriggling for a while, wincing when he moved, “Hey Sammy”, he called softly.

“Yeah.” 

“Would you mind sitting behind here?” Dean requested, pointing back to the bedpost behind him, “Just rub my shoulders and back a little, they’re killing me?” Dean said, already attempting to make place for Sam to fit in. 

“Of course,” Sam agreed, and sat himself down behind his brother, arranging his legs on both sides of Dean. 

He expertly massaged his back and shoulders with deft fingers, and if Dean’s moans were anything to go by Sam was sure he was doing a good job of it. 

“Don’t stop orgasming on my account Dean,” Sam teased, only to get a wounding elbow to his stomach, “Ow,” Sam groaned, pressing Dean a little harder in retaliation. 

“You should do this professionally man...”Dean suggested…thoroughly enjoying the relaxing feel of Sam’s fingers easing his pain. 

“Between the hunt for the werewolf? Or before or after we’ve hunted a wendigo?” Sam retorted. 

“We won’t hunt all our lives Sam. This is a post-retirement plan.”

“I’ll need someone to massage my own worn out and ancient body Dean,” Sam laughed, “I think I am happier offering my services exclusively to you. At least you won’t sue me if I press a wrong muscle there grandpa…” 

“Grandpa? Dude I’m not the one with grey hair already…” 

“Dude I am not even forty, the grey hair you see is because of all the stress you put me through?” Sam remarked.

“What did I do?”

“You want a list?” Sam challenged,” You have hits and misses with death even without trying, and you don’t make matters easy even when things are going right for once because you jump right into the face of a monster that’s heading for me unmindful that I might be able to kill it or save myself and then get injured…like you did this time…and then fall sick,” Sam said ranting and flapping his arms…gesturing to Dean’s state. Dean would have thought Sam was angry if not for the asshole’s smug face.

As a habit, Dean was going to argue before he broke into a cough, feeling like he would yank his lungs out. He felt Sam panic when the coughing didn’t cease and tried talking.

“Shut up,” he ordered, rubbing his palm down his back, pressing the other near his sternum,” You always have to get in the last word? Stop talking…we can argue later…” he said, at once bringing in another cup of water for Dean to sip on. 

Sam continued rubbing down his back, and Dean quietly leaned back blindly handing over the empty cup to Sam and shut his eyes in exhaustion. 

They sat silently after that, the hum of the cooler and soft murmur from the TV the only sound in the room. Making sounds of Sam’s growling stomach more obvious. 

“Sammy?” Dean turned to him, “Have you eaten anything today?” 

“You cooked and fed us both Dean, did you forget?” Sam was coyly staring ahead instead of looking back at him. 

“Sam?” Dean warned. “That was at noon, it’s past mid-night now. I know you’re hungry….”

“I am not…”

“I am afraid your tummy doesn’t agree with you kiddo…” he chuckled, when another rumble resounded from Sam.

Sam’s face was every shade of red, but he refused to budge,” I don’t feel like cooking now, I am tired,” Sam tried evading and turned Dean around to resume his back-rub. 

Dean aggressively turned around,” Sam!”

Now irritated Sam snapped,” What Dean? I said I am not hungry and even if I am….forgive me for not wanting to leave you alone right now...” 

As if Sam had not just shouted in his face, Dean calmly reposed,” You won’t even have to cook. There’s spaghetti in the fridge, just warm it up…” 

Sam sighed,” Dean please, would you let it go?”

“Would you let it go?” Dean asked and Sam deflated. 

“Okay fine, you win…but if I am eating so are you…” Sam countered.

“Is this some bargain?” 

“Seems like…”

“Sam I ---“

“Nothing heavy, I’ll get you a bowl of soup...okay?” 

Sam seemed so hopeful, Dean didn’t have it in him to refuse, “Okay fine!!” Dean gave up. 

Sam moved from behind Dean, arranging pillows behind his back so he was more comfortable.   
“You’re worse of a mother-hen then even I am Sammy,” Dean said, trying to reign in the itch in his throat lest he start coughing again. 

“What can I say? Learned from the best, didn’t I?” Sam admitted a bit too happily, as if Dean had just awarded him jackpot money. If being ‘Florence Nightingale’ made Sam so happy, Dean was willing to fall ill more often. 

“Keep the phone on you, ring me if you need anything okay?” Sam said, hurriedly leaving so he could rush back even sooner than he had left.

Dean just rolled his eyes and waved Sam away, pretending to pull the blanket over himself so he could sleep. 

As soon as Sam left, Dean let out a cough, almost choking on his phlegm…He’d restrained himself in front of his brother, knowing Sam wouldn’t leave if he so much as winced. 

In fact he had been putting one hell of a performance for a while now. Smiling, joking… picking on Sam to distract him into their usual banter. But the fact was that he’d been feeling much worse than before. The wound was still throbbing, his eyes burnt with fever, his entire body was achy and the incessant cough was making his head drum too. He felt like he was dying…which was probably only a figure of speech…but he wouldn’t dare state it aloud.

He wasn’t planning to hide it from Sam. He knew from before that it made matters only worse when it all came down on Sam suddenly, which had what lead to Sam’s loss of control before.

He had wanted Sam to sleep and eat. Nap done, now he wanted to have the kid eat something. Then he’d let go and let Sam coddle him to his heart’s content. 

Sam was finally eating, all arguments of not being hungry forgotten as he wolfed down his meal. The tantalizing smell of food had awakened Dean’s taste buds too. And he was heartily devouring the Tomato soup Sam had specially made for him. 

Hungrier than before Dean leaned over, tugging at his brother’s hand, wanting a taste of the spaghetti –and Sam was more than willing to share- going by how pleased he looked. He scooted closer to Dean and fed him a spoonful of the meal. 

Dean raised his eyes in acknowledgement,” It turned out good. You liked it?” Dean asked, he always did. He seemed to love cooking for his brother. Loved even more that his brother enjoyed eating his food, seemed to devour it. He awaited Sam’s compliments, even his brother’s choices and suggestions. So he was elated when Sam gestured his praise for the food. 

Sam held another spoonful for Dean to eat, taking pleasure in getting to feed his brother. And Dean readily accepted. But it wasn’t a great idea because he his stomach was already churning. 

The initial surge of hunger he had felt on seeing the food had died down now. His stomach was hurting, giving rise to the nausea he had been quelling the whole day. Discomfort he’d been distracted from flooded back too. So when Sam proceeded to feed him more, he refused. 

“I am done,” he said pushing his own tray away.” You finish that up,” he put up a fake smile for Sam hoping his brother didn’t pick on it. 

But Sam had caught on. Because his appetite died away instantly. He gathered the plates, collected and put them away at the side desk. 

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked softly. “And don’t lie…I know you’ve been off. But I was playing along. I didn’t want to push you and you were paranoid about me not eating so I did…” 

“Shut up dude, you were hungry…” 

“Okay, I was…” Sam accepted. But he wasn’t going to let Dean deviate from the topic. 

Dean sighed,” It’s nothing you have to panic about….”

But Sam quickly interrupted, “Humour me…”

“Man it’s nothing new. I have a fever dude, what do you expect? My body aches like shit, head’s throbbing, and food’s climbing its way back up…” Dean admitted and then just sagged loose into Sam’s waiting arms. 

“I hate when you do this…” Sam sulked, even as he laid Dean down. 

“Now what?” Dean whined at another complain from his brother.

“Put up a show for me, just so that I don’t worry” Sam grumbled, then moved away to fetch Dean’s medicine, it was finally time for the dose. 

“I just wanted you to eat….” Dean stated simply. It was so uncomplicated for his brother. Take care of Sam…everything he did or didn’t do always stemmed from that one quest he’d hold onto as if it were a lifeline. 

Sam didn’t have the heart to argue against it. So he got to work. He checked Dean’s temperature first, unhappy to see it had steadily risen and wondered how Dean had managed to fool around and stay up right this long. Second he helped Dean have his next dose of medicines, raising his head a little so he didn’t have to make the effort of sitting up again. He seemed to have lost all vigour to do so now that he had no reason to pretend. 

“Don’t go…”Dean mumbled when Sam was tucking him in. 

“I am not...” Sam reassured and only moved to clear the mess from Dean’s bed. 

“No, I mean…sit here with me…please?” Dean pursed his lip. 

How could Sam refuse that? Dean wasn’t the only one weak to his brother’s charm.

Sam slid into the bed…half lying next to his brother. Dean smiled, then moved closer to Sam…laying his arms across Sam’s thigh and leaning his head against his hip.

Sam gently fingered the short hair at the back of Dean’s neck,” Ready to rest now?” -- But Dean was still fighting sleep. 

“Dean, you can’t keep fighting this. You need to sleep…” 

“Sam ---- “

“Okay…here’s the deal. You try sleeping…if I think you’re about to get a nightmare…I’ll wake you up…okay?” Sam gently coaxed his brother. His brother needed the rest to recover. 

And Dean realised it too, because he was quick to agree. 

Sam smiled and continued to pet his brother, who had unconsciously snuggled closer and was already asleep.

Dean groaned as violent heaves took over again and he spewed more of what he had eaten down the toilet bowl. It had been going on similarly for the past thirty minutes.  
All the vomiting had strained his tired and ill body worse than before. He was in terrible pain, and the fever had only been rising since he had ended upchucking the medicines too. He couldn’t help but let out a tired sob, in between all the heaving. 

“Sshh,” Sam consoled. He had been sitting behind him, his arms around Dean’s waist…soothingly caressing his stomach and back, to ease some of the pain. 

Sam had been resting next to Dean a while back, when he had felt Dean stir and mutter in his sleep. He’d assumed it was the starting of a nightmare and had intended to wake him right that second. But even before he could have done that Dean had come to....dashing to the loo and had been puking ever since. 

Sam took a shuddering breath, blinking back his tears. He was so exhausted…not physically of course because it was his brother who had been put through the grind. He was just unnerved seeing his brother in agony.   
Sam pulled him against him…clasping his sweaty forehead, “Easy…easy sshhh” and when it seemed like Dean was done for a while he pulled him back…leaning him against the tub.

“I am going to clean you up…okay brother?” Sam coaxed him into drinking a few sips of water. Not letting Dean hold the bottle…he raised it so Dean wouldn’t choke on the water.   
“Let’s get you cleaned up …okay?” Sam wet two clothes with some cold water and started to wipe Dean’s face, chin …Dean looked like he needed a shower, but Sam didn’t think he was going to be able to do that without Sam holding him upright.

Dean was trembling, so he quickly retreated to the room and bought him a blanket…wrapping it around him. Then sat down next to him and unscrewed the bottle he had been holding, held it up for Dean to drink, who just silently turned his face away. 

“Dean, you need to hydrate yourself. Or everything’s just going to feel worse…” Sam insisted softly. Dean drank a few more sips, then his face twisted agonizingly as he dashed ahead, heaving into the bowl. 

Sam rocked back, winced when he heard Dean painfully sob again. Witnessing Dean in pain was near to torment on Sam, it had always been. Even when he was four and Dean had a boo-boo…the tiniest of scratches seemed enormous to him. 

Dean was breathing heavily, waiting for the nausea to pass. But even amidst all the uneasiness he was mindful of his brother’s state of mind. He sat back and his flailing hands caught Sam’s in a death grip. 

They were cooped in the corner of their bathroom, with no more room than they were already occupying. The room smelt of perspiration and sickness but there wasn’t anywhere Sam would be but besides his brother. Sam felt a rush of deep affection …he hooked his arms around Dean’s neck and bundled closer to him.

He held him closer, hiding his face in Dean’s neck. Dean clasped on to Sam’s arm around his neck, mindlessly grazing it. 

“I hate this,” Sam said softly. “I hate it when you are sick…” 

Dean huffed, smiled faintly and clicked his temple to Sam’s head, “Now you know why I go raving mad when it’s you who’s sick…” 

“Hmmm,” Sam admitted,” Remind me to never complain again…” 

Dean didn’t answer, he was instead fumbling for the bottle of water Sam had bought with him. Sam helped him lift the bottle and tilt it so he could drink. 

They sat back cautiously hoping the water didn’t resurface back up. When it didn’t, Sam was pulling him to his feet so he could carry him back to bed.

“Come on, let’s get back to the room Dean…”

When Dean began to protest, he cut in,” You’ll be more comfortable on the bed Dean…I’ll keep a trash can right there if you need it…come on,” he gently gathered Dean in his arms, helping him stand…and they limped back to the room.

He settled Dean on the bed, then started unbuttoning his shirt.

Dean protested,” Sam---wha?”

“I need to change your shirt Dean, it’s soaked and dirty. You’ll feel sicker with it on,” Sam pulled the shirt away, throwing it in the corner to deal with later. Removed the warmest pair of hoodie Dean owned and worked it over his trembling arms. 

“Come on Dean, lie down…” Sam helped him to get horizontal, draping the blanket around him. Dean was still shivering…so Sam rushed to his room, bringing his own blanket too and covered him with that too. 

Sam checked for his temperature again. Shit, 103. 

Any progress Dean might have made had backtracked with him having vomited everything along with the medicines he’d just had. 

Dean was going to refuse it. Sam knew. Even he would if he was as nauseas as his brother was. But the way the fever was rising, if Sam didn’t do anything quick, he would be left with no way but to take Dean to the hospital. 

Sam skimmed his hand through Dean’s hair,” I’ll be right back Dean.” But Dean wasn’t in the state to comprehend or react. 

Sam poured Dean a glass of apple juice, then crushed the medicine in it. This was the only way Dean might take in at least some of it. 

Sam returned to Dean’s shivering form huddled into a ball. “Hey Dean…come on up…”

“Go a—way” Dean groaned. 

“Dean you need to drink this…you need to hydrate…come on…” Sam insisted trying to leave the panic he was feeling out of his voice. 

Dean was flushed with fever, face twisted in a constant grimace, but he complied and slowly drank most of the juice. Sam didn’t want Dean to lie down immediately, fearing it might make him puke again. But Dean had already burrowed himself into the blanket. 

Dean quietly tugged at Sam’s hand, a silent gesture of need, pulling Sam on the bed… Dean shifted, raised his head and rested it in Sam’s lap. Sam laughed wetly, and pulled Dean higher, closer to himself...threading his fingers through Dean’s hair, gently brushing his head, down to his shoulders… 

Dean squirmed for a while, unable to get comfortable…and it took a while for Sam to get him to rest.  
And this time Sam stayed awake. Even if he was feeling entirely spent after the day he’d had.   
Both the time’s he had fallen asleep alongside Dean, he had woken up to see Dean worse than before. He didn’t care if he was being superstitious or a cynic. He’d do anything so Dean didn’t endure any more pain than he already was.

“I love you Sammy,” Dean confessed. 

Sam huffed, pretending annoyance but secretly enjoying the loss of his brother’s inhibitions,” I know Dean, I know you love me…you’ve told me that a thousand times in the last hour, remember?” 

“Did I?” Dean giggled-honest to God giggled- Sure Dean cackled, pulled pranks, had his fun at Sam’s expense and laughed out loud many a times. But this gooey eyed, cheerful giggle was rare. 

“But I do love you Sammy…a lot, more than bacon, burgers, booze, brunettes…” and his voice trailed, something else in his mind catching his attention. Sam shook his head, smiling while changing the washcloth over Dean’s head. 

Dean wasn’t entirely well, but it was a progress. Anything…even this dopey version of his brother was better than how Dean had been all day. Dean had suffered through a rough night. Fever had risen much higher and refused to taper down. He had been in and out of sleep, mumbling incoherently when addled with feverish dreams. 

That Sam had been terrified would be an understatement. Sam had been panicking….and it wasn’t helping that it was the dreaded Tuesday they were trying to get through. 

Dean had steadily been getting worse before things had turned for the better. At least he had stopped throwing up…and so Sam had continually fed him liquids, then some solids when he was awake enough to eat…and eventually Dean’s fever had broken – not much – but thankfully below the danger mark.

Dean had woken up sometime before sundown –loopy, delirious, chatting away adorably, laughing unabashedly, and talking to no end like never before.   
And Sam was enjoying it. It was rare to witness his brother so unbridled, so demonstrative. 

It wasn’t just Dean’s profession of his love for Sam that had him fascinated… because Sam never doubted Dean’s love for him…In fact he thought Dean loved him a bit too much. And he’d always held a grouse against himself thinking he could never love Dean back the same, at least not with the same intensity….And ended up comforting himself that it was more a big brother thing. Dean hadn’t only been his brother, but he’d had to be his parent too. The over-protectiveness, illimitable love and patience came with the job. 

It was Dean sharing his innermost feelings, without a thought or doubt…enjoying the moment and being so immensely jovial was what made Sam feel overwhelmed. It was as if the child Dean had hidden deep within him had resurfaced. 

Dean had never really gotten to be a kid. He had lost his childhood the day he had seen his mother burn to death. Any hope that he could still have a semblance of normalcy had died along with his mom, when his Dad had transformed from a doting husband and father to a commander. And instead of living his adolescent days in innocence, Dean had been exposed to all the evils of the world. Then there had been no going back. Dean had readily given up his childhood to take care of his father and brother. Stuck in between two polar opposite personalities, holding them apart so they didn’t end up killing each other. Getting shredded to pieces just because he wanted to see his family together.

It had taken too long for Sam to realise what they has a family had ended up doing to Dean. It had been too late then to go back and change anything. But since realising Sam had made every effort that he could be everything that Dean needed, give in return just as much as took from Dean, and to never take his brother for granted. 

With their relation evolved, Dean had lost his inhibitions. He shared more openly, let Sam in…It was Dean after all. He found happiness in the smallest of pleasures and even after all that life had put them through that hadn’t changed. 

But still, this childlike, delightful, happy Dean, sick and stoned to his gills was a novelty. Not just for Sam but even for Dean. He deserved to be this happy, this unshackled – even if it was momentary and influenced by drugs. 

Dean was still chattering, stopping then turning to remind his brother he loved him…When Sam thought to indulge in the moment of weakness. 

So when Dean once again confessed,” I love you Sammy…”

Sam joined in,” More than the Impala?” he asked with a straight face, waiting to watch the look of indecision on Dean’s face. 

“Of course I do Sammy…” he drawled. “You do know the Impala’s just a car right?”

Sam, flabbergasted asked,” Just a car? Wha…Just a car?” he repeated. “I should have video-taped that dude…for the next time you kick my ass for even looking at her wrong.” 

“You talk like she’s my girlfriend…” Dean chuckles, his head hanging loosely where it rests on Sam’s shoulders. 

“Won’t be wrong to call her your girl…you do call her ‘baby’….” Sam jokes. 

“She is my ‘baby’…but she’s not my girlfriend,” he exclaims looking wide eyed at Sam, then suddenly becomes sombre,” I never really hard a girlfriend,” Dean pouts. 

“What a load of crap Dean! You’ve had many girlfriends…in college, even after…. “ 

“Those weren’t girlfriends…I mean not serious ones.” 

“You and Cassie were serious…” Sam reminded. 

“I was, she wasn’t…” Dean’s suddenly lost his smile.

But Dean continued, “I did love her…you know…. Loved her enough to not want to lie to her about who I really was,” Dean smiles sadly. “But she didn’t love me enough. Or at least didn’t love me for who I really was…and that’s not love…”Dean stated, but he wasn’t sad…he seemed like he had made peace with it long ago. 

Sam hoped to deviate from the conversation but the chain of discussion has led to awaken some other memory, because Dean was now ruefully staring at him,” I am sorry Sammy…” 

“For what?” the sudden apology confused Sam.

“For Jess…”Sam didn’t know what he was expecting, but he sure hadn’t been expecting a walk down the forbidden lane. Sam hadn’t spoken about Jess in years. He thought about her, and the many others he had formed a relation with and lost. But Dean didn’t. Dean never steered anywhere close to naming the people they had lost, that he knew Sam felt guilty about. 

“For taking you away from her that night. If I hadn’t maybe she would have been alive.” 

Sam had to blink back his tears and the expected wash of grief and love… Had Dean been carrying that guilt till date? Leave it to Dean to feel responsible for everything that happened to Sam.

“I am not sorry you came to me Dean.” He wasn’t sure Dean would still remember anything he said to him now the next day, but he had to try. “I am not sorry you came, I am not sorry I left with you that morning either,” and he really wasn’t. 

Dean true to his word hadn’t bothered him or approached him even once for anything remotely about the hunt. In fact he had tried to keep in touch, but it had been Sam who had stopped answering, Sam lamented remorsefully. It hadn’t been the least bit because he wanted to distance from Dean, it had been out of desperation to prove himself, that he could even after the childhood he’d had, build a new life for himself from scratch. And any time Dean called, it nearly led him to give up everything and go back, because that’s how much he missed his brother. 

“I am your brother Dean, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” Sam stated. “You would be there if I needed you. No matter where you were, if I called…right?” 

“Obviously…duh,” his glassy eyed brother replied without even batting an eyelid. 

“So how can I not do the same…You needed me. I knew you did or you would never have come,” Sam had put up a protest back then, he remembered. But it was mostly because he wanted to believe that things weren’t so bad that Dean had had to come to him. 

Dean was silent, thoughtful…Sam worried he was worse, but a touch of his cheek told him it was just the fuzziness from being ill. 

“I thought Dad was dead,” Sam sat up straighter, when his brother disclosed “He hadn’t called since a month…I was scared.” Dean sniffled and nuzzled closer to Sam. Sam remained silent, not wanting to spook his brother into silence.   
“I thought I’d end up finding his dead body,” Dean’s voice was heavy with despondency. “I didn’t….I didn’t want to face that alone…” he admitted. 

Sam pulled him closer, his fingers grazing the nape of Dean’s neck,” And you shouldn’t have to,” he asserted. “Dean I am sorry if I ever made you feel….that whatever happened with Jess that night was because you took me away from her…Because it was never like that. I didn’t think of that ---not even once,” Sam asserted. 

“What happened would have happened either way. The demon would have got to me, to us no matter what we did…we know that now,” a nerve twitched in Sam’s jaw as he mulled the thought over. 

“I am still sorry about Jess,” Dean softly reiterated. And Sam understood…Dean regretted Sam had lost his love, his life…whatever he had dreamt. “Yeah, I am sorry too…” he replied, because he wasn’t the only one who had had to give up on a life, or lost what he cherished. 

“But I am where I want to be Dean,” Sam avowed gently but firmly. He’d told the same to Dean a million times and he would do it as many times as it took for Dean to get it into his thick skull. 

Dean’s shiny eyes turned to him, as he grinned a bit wildly and settled his head with a thud back on Sam’s chest, making Sam grin. 

Sam tried to distract himself from the memories erupting after their conversation. The talk of unachieved dreams had reminded him of the shape-shifters words about Dean…of how no one had ever stopped to think if Dean had dreams of his own…those words had always nagged him, but he’d never gotten down to inquiring the extent of truth in it.   
There was a chance today…but Sam didn’t want to rehash anything his brother had laid to rest.   
But this also felt like a golden chance. They never got to sit back and converse….They did talk of course…. but never so willingly or this candidly. 

“Dean?” Sam checked if his brother had dozed off. 

“Hmm?” 

Sam took a shaky breath,” Did you ever wish for something more?”

“Huh?” Dean was puzzled. “More of what?”

“I mean – when we growing up. Did you ever think about going to college….or …anything you wanted to be?” Sam asked, looking back at his brother curiously. He was half expecting curse-words and denial. 

“I thought of it…” Dean admitted, after a long silence. 

Interest piqued Sam asked,” What would you have studied?” 

Dean shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance,” I don’t know…maybe Mechanical designing or engineering?” 

And it totally made sense. Dean had both the aptitude and interest for it. 

“Then why didn’t you try for it Dean?” Sam asks. Dreaming up of a scenario that could have been theirs in another world. 

Dean took a breath,” I couldn’t leave Dad alone Sammy,” he said. “I just kept thinking…that he could have given us up….you know after Mom… and sometimes he acted like he wanted to,” Dean said, his shoulders bowed, his tone more serious and Sam wondered if this a delirious Dean talking or the medicine had worn off, because he sounded serious now, “But he did his best…whatever best counted for in his world…He protected us, taught us what we needed to know to get by…and…”

“And what?” Sam asked. 

“And I just didn’t want him to die alone…I mean it wasn’t rocket science to figure out that he was brash and obsessive. It was a matter of time that a hunt would take him down,” Dean huffed wistfully. “I just didn’t want him to be alone…” he confessed. 

Sam’s heart thudded painfully, sending warmth soaring within him. Dean’s devotion to this family, his thoughtfulness for his father, for him…that extent of love and sacrifice was rare to find. 

“But he left you alone, I left you alone…” Sam said, remorseful.

Dean smiled, gentle and slow… but without any trace of anger…at least not for him,” You didn’t leave me Sammy…you left the hunt…..You just wanted to go to college.” 

“And you don’t resent me for it?” Sam implored, almost frantically. 

“Resent you?” Dean asked, perplexed. “Never Sammy…I never resented you for anything…ever…” then fondly smiled at Sam,” I was proud of you….Which kid can move so many schools in a year and still manage getting A grades and a full ride to freaking Stanford man?” And Sam thought he was bursting with joy. He had never for a minute doubted that Dean would resent him, but to hear it in words…it was unmatched. 

Sam idly wondered, why the both of them never took time to converse like this. Why did they bare their hearts only around near-death experiences? Sam wanted to talk more, delve into all that he still didn’t know about his brother.

But a tired Dean had a different idea…because he had slid under the covers. Sam turned to his brother, head supported by his elbow and hooked his palm around Dean’s forearm. Sam wasn’t ready to part from him yet. 

Dean’s rough voice broke through the silence, startling Sam out of his thoughts. Dean’s face was resting on one folded arm and he was peering at Sam…thoughtful and serious,” You’re wrong Sammy.” 

“About what?” Sam waited, unsure what Dean was talking about.

“About saving me…You know when you said you weren’t able to save me and all?” Dean said firmly. 

Sam stayed silent. Not looking directly at Dean anymore.

“Because you did save me…and not once but a million times…”

“Dea….”

“No …let me finish…” Dean cut in, stern and direct. “I mean I am not gonna sit here and count all the times we saved each other’s asses on a hunt,” Dean huffed. “I think it’s insulting to both of us…I mean, we save innocents and victims, we freaking saved the world from annihilating itself…And we wouldn’t save each other? We’re brothers, family…and that is exactly what family does.”

“Families don’t burn their soul in hell for each other…”

“In my books they do…” Dean bluntly stated. Then his gaze softened,” This, here, what we have? It couldn’t have worked if it wasn’t for the both of us Sam. After all that we’ve been through, we’re still standing….and together. We’ve come such a long way….and none of this could have happened if it was one-sided…”

” And I am telling you…what I think I should have told you before,” Dean snorted. “I thought you knew, but clearly you didn’t… so I am gonna spell it out Sam. You.saved.me.”

“Yeah when?”

“For starters just that you are alive has saved me Sam. You being there was what saved me after mom….”Dean paused,” Dad was next to being as gone as she was. I stayed sane, alive, and present because of you, to look after you. The effort to keep the truth about all the evil from you, kept some innocence alive in me too Sam…so yeah you did save me.”

Sam’s eyes flooded at the words and Dean’s raw tone. 

“I’ve lost my way many a times. This life…it’s not easy. But it’s you who pulled me back,” Dean said, voice shaking with intensity. “Why do you think I survived Hell? Survived Purgatory? - It was because of you….I strived to come back to you.” 

“You balance me out Sam, you ground me…You saved me from a darkness that was somewhere in me. When I was too far gone and the lines between good and bad burnt away, you drew them again…pulled me back,” Dean laced his fingers around Sam’s palm, clasping it tightly…giving support and taking some too.

Dean was looking at him with fever-bright eyes but his voice was steady. 

Dean remained quiet for a while, and Sam was still overwhelmed, with no words befitting to convey what he felt for his brother, nothing he would say would seem enough. 

“I’ve ever said a thank you ….have I?” Dean bemused. 

“For what?”

“For being there for me? For never letting me go?” Dean pulled Sam close in some sort of a hug, with whatever little strength his body could afford. “Thank you Sammy…” he whispered before falling asleep. 

Sam was crying, maybe even laughing a little…feeling immensely loved, protected….healed. Sam felt a light touch of Dean’s hand on his head. Even half asleep, his brother was still there for him.

Sam pressed against Dean’s shoulder, hiding his face there, soaking in the warmth and safety his brother signified. He lay staring at his brother- who loved with a fierceness unmatched, gave all he had and healed Sam’s inner scars without even meaning to…by just being there. 

And Sam understood, what he meant to his brother and why he could never let him go. He put an arm around Dean, pulling him closer and watched over his shoulder as the clock turned to 12….

It was officially Wednesday.


End file.
